


Patience

by Sticks



Category: Star Wars: Legacy of the Force Series - Aaron Allston & Troy Denning & Karen Traviss
Genre: AU, F/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sticks/pseuds/Sticks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaina never could turn down a challenge. AU during Invincible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> The love triangle BS with Zekk in LotF annoyed me, so I substituted Kyp instead and it was magically less annoying and also a million times sexier.

_Leia didn't even need to think before she answered. "Well, do you remember what happened with Jag and Kyp?" Han bit his lip to keep from smiling, which only made Jaina frown harder. "They helped with the extraction," Jaina said. "They both fought very well. I remember that."_   
_"We're talking about later," her father said. "As they were loading you into the blastboat."_   
_"I, uh:" Jaina paused, trying to grab hold of a hazy image floating at the edges of her memory--one of Kyp's big snowy smile, and Jag's durasteel eyes doing something they hardly ever did--widening in surprise. "I thanked them?"_   
_"I guess you could call it that," her father said. He pulled a chair out from the wall beside her bed and dropped into it smirking. "You asked them to bunk with you."_   
_"Bunk with me?" Jaina asked. "Both of them?"_   
_"Well, what you really proposed was taking quarters together," Leia corrected. "All three of you."_

When her parents and Uncle Luke finally left her convalescence bay, Jaina stood at the mirror once more and gazed at the marks her uncle had identified as a blood trail. Knowing what they were didn’t make her feel any better. It was just further confirmation that her brother was truly gone, replaced completely by Darth Caedus, because if Jacen were still in there somewhere, he wouldn’t need a blood trail to find her.

She heard the partition hiss open behind her yet again, and twisted a rueful smile at herself in the mirror. If the medics knew how many visitors she would have that day, they would have put her in isolation. But even after the exhausting conversation she’d just had, she couldn’t help but be glad to see the two men who stepped into the room. The taller one pulled his black Jedi robes closer about him as he stepped over the threshold, and the other stood with military crispness just inside the doorway. She smiled at their reflections.

“We just came to see how you were--” Kyp broke off as he noticed the crimson marks on Jaina’s jaw and neck, and rushed to her side. In the aftermath of the battle, they must have looked like any ordinary blood spatter, and the extent of his concern would have been to wonder if it was her blood or Caedus’. But now, a week later, after a healing trance and plenty of attention from the medics, they still stood out against her skin as vividly as if they were fresh. It didn’t help that she had scrubbed at the marks with half a dozen abrasives and sanitizers that day, and the surrounding skin was also colorful and quite raw. “What,” the Jedi Master breathed as he let his fingertips trail over the marks, “are these?”

Jaina explained, and watched Jag’s reaction as she spoke. The man did his best to hide it, but she saw him bristle--though whether it was with distaste at the idea of a Nightsister blood trail, or outrage that Kyp was touching her, she couldn’t say. Either way, he didn’t speak or move from his place by the door. Kyp muttered something about it being “a neat trick” and turned away to perch on the end of her bed. Jaina fought a wince as she recalled her conversation with her parents. Though she wanted to forget she’d ever said such a thing to Kyp and Jag, she knew it would cause less grief and embarrassment in the long run if she addressed it now.

So she cleared her throat. “So did I actually... say...” Kriff, she was thirty-two years old and should be able to finish a damn sentence. She felt her skin go red in a way that had nothing to do with blood trails or solvents. Kyp, clearly eager to prove his status as the most immature Jedi Master in galactic history, smirked infuriatingly and waggled his brows at her, while Jag avoided her gaze and remained impassive. Jaina wished furiously that they hadn’t come to visit her after all. She regretted the thought instantly, because Kyp noticed and brushed against her presence with his own.

 _We just wanted to see whether you were serious, Goddess_ , he said in her mind.

“I was delirious with pain,” she shot back out loud, trying not to sound too defensive. That made Kyp’s smirk widen into a grin, and over by the door Jag actually fidgeted. “Stang,” she sighed. “Look, I didn’t know what I was saying.” A weak lie. She had always held the opinion that intoxicated celebrities or politicians who said stupid and offensive things within range of a holorecorder deserved every iota of bad publicity they got, and the knee-jerk defense that they “didn’t mean it” was pure poodoo. Brains didn’t work that way; losing control made people say exactly what they meant, because they couldn’t restrain themselves.

And that was the real problem--not what Jaina had said, but the fact that she’d meant it. For the past year, and especially in the wake of Mara’s death, she had maintained that she was sick of Kyp and Jag competing over her, the pettiness of it, the childishness. She went so far as to say she didn’t want either of them, that they were partners and that was all, just to get them to shut up. It took a feverish proposition she didn’t even remember to make her understand what she actually wanted.

She didn’t want to have to choose; that much was absolutely true. She wanted both of them.

The realization hit her so fast and so hard that she didn’t have time to shield herself, and Kyp sat up straighter, the grin wiped clean off his face. Jag, blind to the Force as he was, could not have felt the wave that rolled off her, but he saw her expression and posture change, and he looked at her with concern in his clear green eyes.

It was to Jag that Jaina looked now, to the man who hadn’t said a word since he walked into her room, who knew her better than anyone else even without the Force, and who knew--yes, he must have known--that she meant what she said as they loaded her damaged body into the blastboat. As she watched, his concern softened into something else, something she tentatively identified as resignation. They were making progress before she went to train with Fett, and back on Endor it seemed almost as if they had turned back the chrono to when they were teenagers. They even had a picnic out in the forest, and Kyp wasn’t invited.

But as she thought about it now, Jaina realized turning back time wouldn’t accomplish anything. Even in those days, Kyp had been there, his role undefined, his presence not unwelcome, but certainly unwieldy. When she was eighteen, Jaina had not known how to balance the strange partnership they had, and after the war it had ultimately fallen apart. Fourteen years later, she finally got it.

Jaina crossed the room in four swift strides and kissed him. For a fraction of a section Jag stiffened in surprise, but then he relaxed and threaded his fingers into her hair, returning the kiss with genuine fervor. It felt better than anything she could remember, better even than that first kiss in the conference room on Borleias. There was something more behind this kiss than infatuation and comfort and military camaraderie. This kiss carried with it true understanding and, more importantly, acceptance. It told her everything she needed to know. This was not how he would have preferred to rekindle their relationship, not exactly, but Jag was pragmatic and would not turn down the opportunity, regardless of the strange circumstances. And she would make sure the experience did not disappoint him.

She could feel Kyp watching them, and after a few seconds (uncomfortable seconds, for him) the Jedi Master got to his feet and moved toward the door. “I should--” he began, but Jaina pulled away from Jag and turned her gaze on Kyp, and he froze.

“No,” she said calmly, “you really shouldn’t.” And through the Force she gave him a glimpse of what she meant. Kyp blinked, then glanced warily to Jag, as if to confirm that he comprehended this correctly. Jag gave an infinitesimal nod, then the ghost of a shrug. As Kyp looked back to Jaina, she grinned at him, and through their Force bond she declared, _I guess I was serious_.

Then she turned away and moved to her sleeping pallet, shrugging out of the papery medbay garments on the way. By now her bruises were yellowed and fading, her wounds freshly scarred. She was far from pretty at that moment, but she knew it wouldn’t matter to either of them. They had both seen her worse than this. “Dad told me I wasn’t patient enough to bunk with both of you,” she said lazily as she reclined on the bed. “You know I can’t turn down a challenge like that.”

She tugged the sheet over herself as Jag, already undressed, climbed in on her left and Kyp, shedding his Jedi robes, lay down to her right. Jaina turned on her side to face Jag and moved closer to him, her hands going to his hair and the scar on his brow. She saw her own happiness reflected in his eyes, and she realized that on some level she had wanted to do this ever since Borleias, since the three of them began flying together and learned to work in concert, Jaina and Kyp linked through their Force bond and Jag only nanoseconds behind at target practice. Their rapport was invaluable for fighting the Yuuzhan Vong, but there was so much more potential, possibilities they had never tested. She was about to find out just what else they could accomplish together.

Kyp’s warm, callused hand came to rest at her low back, and Jaina stiffened, but not because of his touch. “What if the medics come in to check on me?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for not taking the public nature of her convalescence bay into account.

“Relax,” Kyp said as his knuckles brushed her spine. “I’m keeping an eye on the corridor.”

Instead of relaxing, Jaina twisted her head around to regard him, one brow arched. “Are you saying I won’t have your undivided attention, Master Durron?”

The older man’s fathomless green eyes narrowed, and his voice went husky. “Goddess,” he growled in her ear, “if I gave you my undivided attention, you’d be in recovery for weeks.”

Jag snorted at Kyp’s bravado, and a grinning Jaina turned back to regard him. “It would take both of us to gratify you, wouldn’t it?” the former colonel sighed. Jaina knew that wasn’t resignation in his voice, just his usual grim humor.

She leaned over to kiss him again as Kyp laughed behind her. “Now, gentlemen,” she said softly as Kyp’s hands settled at her hips, and Jag’s at her waist, “I want to see some teamwork.”

Jagged Fel saluted dutifully, and Kyp Durron blew a cool breath over her back, and Jaina Solo felt as though she were lifting off. This was right--she knew it for certain, and her only regret was that it had taken so long for her to realize it. She knew there was still so much for her to do--she had to recover completely, then start training again so she didn’t lose any ground to Caedus, and at some point she’d need to master the shatterpoint, and in the back of her mind there was a chrono ticking down toward their final confrontation. It would happen sooner rather than later. But for now she wanted to be warm and loved and happy, just for a little while. She wanted a short period of peace before she dove back into all of that. It could wait, just for a little while. She deserved that, and more importantly, Jag and Kyp deserved it.

Forget Jaina’s patience, or lack thereof. These two men had loved her for half her life, and waited for her all that time, and she could think of nowhere better to be at that moment than right there between them. Where she belonged.


End file.
